Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Alec.
She doesn’t plan to leave her husband behind.
I need help.
My hands start shaking as I grab my cell and scroll until I find the right number and press Call, but the second he answers and speaks his name my entire body turns to stone.
“Detective Murphy here.”
The phone falls from my hand, my wide eyes stuck open and frozen on the wall.
His muffled, “Hello?” has me jolting, and then a calculated, “Anybody there?” kicks me forward.
I quickly grab it, squeezing my eyes shut as I pull it to my ear. “Hey … hi, Detective Murphy.” I move to my window and peek out into the darkness.
“Ms. Rivera.” There’s a long pause. “What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering if there was any new news—you know, on my dad’s case?”
My lips form a tight line to keep me from crying or screaming or who the hell knows what?
Again, there’s a long pause. “No,” he drags out. “I’m afraid not. But, if something comes up, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Not a problem. You have a good night.”
“Yeah, you, too.” I hang up, and full-blown panic kicks in.
I start hyperventilating, and acid fights its way up my throat. I start gagging but quickly grab a water bottle off my dresser, taking a small drink to help settle my stomach.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Detective Murphy is Marissa Murphy’s father.
I run to my nightstand and pull it away from the wall, sliding open the hidden compartment in the back, and my eyes shoot open wide. My gun is gone.
“Oh God,” I whisper. “Oh God, oh God.”
With trembling fingers, I dial Rowan, but he doesn’t answer, so I quickly text him SOS, hoping he’ll come.
She has my gun and my man.
I scan over the room, searching for an inconspicuous weapon. My eyes stop on my tall corner lamp. I run to it, unscrewing the top half, leaving me with the hard metal stick from the bottom piece.
I rush for my bedroom door, slowly pulling it open, and the moment that I step into the hall … a gunshot rings in the air.
No!
Chapter Thirty-Three
Oakley
I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to soothe me.
I rush into the hall, and the second I reach his door, I jolt to a stop, spotting him on the floor, soaking in a puddle of his own blood.
“Alec!”
I go to blast forward but jump back when she speaks, “Oh, good!”
I jerk away from the door as Marissa’s chipper voice hits my ears, finding her approaching from the hall.
“You came to me.”
I simply stand there like a dumbass, frozen in place, Alec’s lifeless body seen in my peripheral.
That’s when I smell it, my eyes flying past her form, but she steps to the side and right back in my line of sight.
“I told my dad I’d leave you for him, but I think I’ve changed my mind. Two specialized firefighters dying in a tragic fire?” She laughs, and a deep crease takes over my forehead. “Epic. But maybe the joke’s on me, hmm?” She steps closer, so I stand taller. “See, I came here to try to speed this along, so I could have my husband back, seeing as how he couldn’t come home until the job was finished.”
She tilts her head, a dull glaze taking over her eyes, zero emotion reflecting in her features. “I would have figured it out a lot earlier if I’d paid attention to the signs, but I was too busy searching for something else. I mean, I show up here after months of no physical contact, and my husband won’t have sex with me. He said he needed to stay focused, and having my body on the brain would distract him. Smooth, right?”
When my brows pull in, she blinks, and her face transforms once again, now shining brightly with excitement, but her eyes are wide and wild.
She’s gonna snap soon. She’ll shoot for sure. Crazy bitch.
“You didn’t know?” She grins. “You thought we’d been fucking this entire time, and still, you come out here, ready to protect him? God, you’re even more pathetic than me.”
There’s no way what she’s saying is true.
Is it?
She tilts her head, knowing she has my mind spinning.
Did he really not—
When her eyes dart to where my hand has subconsciously moved to hover, I freeze.
Her flighty stare snaps back to mine.
And then she lifts her gun.
She’s quick, but I’m quicker, and I swing the metal bar, hitting her right across her jaw. She stumbles, her back hitting the wall, and the gun goes off in her hand, a slight sting lighting up my calf. She tries to catch her bearings, but I lift the rod again and bring it down over her kneecap with as much force as I can muster. The cracking sound is loud, but her cries of sheer pain are louder, and she crumbles, dropping to the floor.